THE HUMSTRUM.
Why woonce, at Chris’mas-tide, avore
The wold year wer a-reckon’d out,
The humstrums here did come about,
A-soundèn up at ev’ry door.
But now a bow do never screäpe
A humstrum, any where all round,
An’ zome can’t tell a humstrum’s sheäpe,
An’ never heärd his jinglèn sound.
As ing-an-ing did ring the string,
As ang-an-ang the wires did clang.
The strings a-tighten’d lik’ to crack
Athirt the canister’s tin zide,
Did reach, a glitt’rèn, zide by zide,
Above the humstrum’s hollow back.
An’ there the bwoy, wi’ bended stick,
A-strung wi’ heäir, to meäke a bow,
Did dreve his elbow, light’nèn quick,
Athirt the strings from high to low.
As ing-an-ing did ring the string,
As ang-an-ang the wires did clang.
The mother there did stan’ an’ hush
Her child, to hear the jinglèn sound,
The merry maïd, a-scrubbèn round
Her white-steäv’d païl, did stop her brush.
The mis’ess there, vor wold time’s seäke,
Had gifts to gi’e, and smiles to show,
An’ meäster, too, did stan’ an’ sheäke
His two broad zides, a-chucklèn low,
While ing-an-ing did ring the string,
While ang-an-ang the wires did clang.
